


just kids

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Can be read as romantic or platonic rly, Fluff, Gen, Hashirama gets hurt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, but heavily implied - Freeform, first serious work for naruto woot, its 3:30a jesus, not mentioned, not really sure what this is, poor bby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Madara doesn't know when it becomes routine for them to visit each other here, at their creek; but it is now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking artistic liberties with the frequency and duration of Madara and Hashirama's creek visits y'all 
> 
> Like it says on the tin, this can be read as romantic HashiDara or platonic, you do you
> 
> Unbeta'd and written at 3a god help us all

Madara doesn't know when it becomes routine for them to visit each other here, at their creek; but it is now.

 

Sometimes Hashirama will bring inarizushi for them to snack on, and sometimes Madara will pilfer a flask of sake from his father's alcohol cupboard, and the two of them will spend the day in a pleasantly drowsy and slightly buzzed state. Only once do they get drunk enough to pass out- they both wake up the next morning with horrid headaches and sore stomachs, and amidst their groaning and vomiting Madara swears to himself that he's never going to get that drunk again.

 

Sometimes they'll wrestle, clothes getting soaked and muddy in the stream and stained with grass- sometimes they'll just sit quietly, and enjoy each other's company, the wind ruffling their hair and the sun warming their skin. Other times they'll fight and trade techniques, teaching each other tricks with senbon and kunai and taijutsu.

 

At some point, Madara realises that in his head it's no longer 'the creek', it's 'their creek'. He can't think of the creek without associating it to Hashirama, and the times they've spent here together. It always reminds him of peace, and calm. 

 

And then Hashirama disappears.

 

Week after week Madara shows up, hoping desperately that he'll find the brunet lounging lazily on the creek's edge, stretched out like a cat basking in the sun, or leaning against a tree and waving at the Uchiha to come join him, but that doesn't happen. He stops coming, eventually, and it's with a heavy heart now that he thinks of their creek.

 

One day, on such a day when his heart is heavy in his chest, his feet and thoughts lead him to the creek once again. He's seated by the edge, his toes dipping into the cool water and his shoes resting in the grass beside him when he hears a twig snap, the crackle of a dry leaf.

 

Instantly he's on guard. Anyone could be here right now, an enemy of his clan, a random shinobi from one of the surrounding villages- His hand is on his hip, a kunai hidden beneath his tunic and tucked into his belt when another twig snaps, and Hashirama comes into view.

 

He looks haggard, and weary. There's prominent bags under his eyes, and where his cheeks had been full and round with youth they're thin, the skin stretched over sharp bone.

 

"... Hashirama?"

 

The brunet jerks back wildly, eyes wide. "M-Madara," he stammers after a moment, falling against a tree in obvious exhaustion. "Oh."

 

He falls, then- Madara rushes in to catch him before he can hit the ground, utilizing his chakra to give him a burst of speed. Hashirama weighs nothing in his arms, and worry wells up within Madara as he gently sets him onto the ground beside the creek.

 

"I'm sorry for not coming very often," Hashirama murmurs, blinking tiredly and wincing as he eases himself up onto his elbows. "I... Wasn't able to come. Things happened."

 

"If you got hurt don't apologise, idiot." Madara grumbles, even as his hands twist together worriedly. "You can't really be in control of that if it was an accident."

 

"An accident. Right."

 

The brunet's tone worries the Uchiha. It's flat, numb- his usual emotions aren't filling his speech like they used to, and the fact that it's been five minutes and Hashirama's brighter than the sun smile hasn't made an appearance bothers him greatly, more than he's willing to admit.

 

"Do... Do you want to talk about what happened?"

 

He expects the other to deflect the question, to brush it off and move on. Instead, Hashirama sits up and draws his knees to his chest, his bottom lip trembling just the slightest bit. 

 

"I-"

 

Hashirama inhales shakily, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewing on it. "I got caught up in a feud between two clans," he says quietly, his toes curling in the grass. "One of the branches of the enemy clan caught me during a fight, and- tortured, me."

 

Madara's chest tightens, and more to comfort himself than his friend he finds the other boy's hand, fingers curling around it tightly. Hashirama doesn't pull away, tilting his head back and gazing dully at the clouded sky. 

 

"I was just a kid. I am a kid. How is it that this world's grown to be such a horrible place, Madara? When did this happen?"

 

"I don't know." Madara answers quietly, flopping backwards onto the grass. Hashirama follows suit except more gently, and curling onto his side rather than on his back. "I don't know."

 

They lie in the grass silently together, and almost tentatively Hashirama moves closer, so his head is resting on Madara's shoulder. The Uchiha tenses at first- gradually he relaxes, and moves his head so it's resting on top of the other boy's. 

 

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable." Hashirama whispers, and a small frown crosses Madara's brow. "No, it's- it's alright. Go ahead."

 

The brunet pulls himself closer until he's practically wrapped around Madara, his hands fisted in the other boy's shirt. Almost tentatively Madara slides his arm underneath him and wraps it around his back, wincing when he can feel Hashirama's spine through his shirt. "... You're too thin."

 

"That can happen when you're tortured." Hashirama murmurs, a quiet, yet broken sounding laugh bubbling out of his chest. "I haven't been able to touch anyone, or stand anyone touching me since... Since it happened," he continues. "Thank you."

 

"I'm not doing anything though," Madara answers, confused, and this time when Hashirama laughs it's genuine.

 

"You're being you, and who you are is safe. In my memories you're not associated in this stupid feud, or with fighting on a battlefield. You're not associated with- with all this bad stuff. When I think of you I think of our creek- of skipping rocks, and training, reading books and getting so drunk on sake that   
we threw up- things two stupid kids might do in a world where they don't have to go to war for the sake of their clans, or villages."

 

"Huh." 

 

"... Sorry."

 

"No, stop apologising. You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is slightly irritated, and Hashirama smiles slightly, apologetically.

 

"Even your smile looks apologetic!" Gently, so he doesn't hurt him, Madara hits his shoulder. Hashirama still winces, and this time it's Madara that apologises quickly, pulling away so he doesn't hurt him anymore. 

 

"It's alright, you just- surprised me." Hashirama replies quietly, but Madara doesn't fail to notice the shaking in the boy's hands as he tucks them under his arms. They spend the rest of their time in silence, curled together and watching the wind blow leaves out of the trees above them.

 

Eventually, the sun sinks below the horizon, and they both have to go home. Madara wants to see Hashirama home, ensure that the boy makes it back safely even with his unspoken of yet obvious injuries, but he refuses.

 

"Shinobi rules, remember? It might end up badly." The brunet smiles, even as there's hints of sadness in the curves of his lips. "I don't know when I'll be back here again, it might be a while."

 

"See you then, I guess?"

 

"Yeah. Seeya."

 

(They spend one last good day together, before Izuna tails Madara to the creek and tells their father- Madara is shocked to learn that Hashirama is Senju, the supposedly brutal and vicious clan rivalling his own. Even so, as he knows he should be honouring his clan and kill Hashirama, he stares at the smooth skipping stone in his hand and etches a warning onto it, a warning for Hashirama to leave. 

 

Even if they're enemies now, rivals- he doesn't want to spill Hahirama's blood along the stones of their creek.)

 

-

 

The air is cold and chilly, and Hashirama shivers as he pours himself a cup of sake, only letting it wet his lips for a second before sighing, and putting it back down.

 

"Drinking without Madara is no fun, I wish he was here." He grumbles to himself, and as if some higher power hear and answered his wish Madara bursts into his house, gasping and sweaty.

 

"Madara!" Hashirama calls delightedly, lifting the bottle of sake as an invitation before it's knocked out of his hand as Madara enters the room swiftly and is kneeling on the tatami mat before him, bowing.

 

"Forgive me."

 

His voice is shaking, and the smile slips off of Hashirama's face. "What's going on?" He questions, grabbing hold of Madara's arm and lifting him out of his bowing position, though the Uchiha won't look him in the eyes. 

 

"... Do you remember, when you came to the creek after not having been for a while?"

 

Hashirama nods, frowning slightly. He does remember- He'd been just recently rescued from a branch of a rival clan's who'd captured ad tortured him for information, and the overwhelming feelings of pain, loneliness even among his friends and family and numbness drove him to their creek, where he'd run into Madara in a chance stroke of luck. 

 

"I do."

 

His tone is slightly clipped, because it brings up unwanted memories that he works hard to keep from surfacing. Madara's shoulders slump, then, and Hashirama thinks dully _'Oh.'_

 

"I didn't question it at the time, because there were many clans at war with each other- and you never said specifically that you were related to any that were feuding. I... I didn't understand, or know until just a little while ago while I was going through old battle documents, that you were taken by my clan. A branch of it, yes, but my clan nonetheless." 

 

"Madara..."

 

"And- and it listed what happened. I feel sick- I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

 

"Madara."

 

Hashirama puts a hand on the brunet's shoulder, stopping his rambling and silencing him. "It wasn't your fault, and it's not like you could've done something about it. You were a child."

 

"But so were you!" Madara cries, looking up at Hashirama properly for the first time that evening. 

 

A silence cloaks them like blanket, and Hashirama sits back, brow furrowed and lips pursed. "I don't blame you for what happened, nor do I blame your clan. From what I understood after the war, the branches that still believed in such methods for torture were disbanded, right?"

 

The Uchiha nods- bringing the cup of sake still in his grasp to his lips, Hashirama swallows its contents. "Then let what's in the past remain as such- the past. Nothing we do today can erase or change the events that happened then, so the best we can do is to just move on. I'm not going to say we forgive and forget, simply because it's honestly not easy to forget that. And, we shouldn't be forgetting it; we should be learning from our mistakes and not repeating the past. I do, however," he continues, looking at Madara, "Forgive you. You didn't have part in what happened, but if only to ease your conscience I forgive you."

 

The Uchiha nods silently, again, and Hashirama pulls another cup off of the shelf behind him. "Now, what do you say to a drink?" 

 

He fills it, and passes it across the table to Madara, who accepts. "Remember the first time we tasted sake, when I stole a bottle of my father's?" He asks, and Hashirama chuckles. "I do. I also remember when we got so drunk you found a bird's nest, and declared it your new home."

 

"I did not!" Madara protests, and he would deny it but he pouts slightly as Hashirama laughs at him. "I seem to remember you getting so sick afterwards you nearly toppled over the cliff, and I had to save your sorry ass from falling in!"

 

"Ahh, yes- I remember you complaining that you were never going to drink again."

 

"Never get that drunk again," Madara corrects. "I still haven't gotten that drunk, it's been long enough that I've forgotten how horrible it was."

 

"Want to refresh your memory?" Hashirama quips, nudging the sake bottle with his elbow- only after a moment's hesitation does Madara seizes the bottle by the neck, pouring himself another drink. "Hell, why not. I don't have anything important tomorrow as is."

 

They'll regret it in the morning, with splitting headaches, dry mouths and upset stomachs- right in this moment, however, sitting on the Senju's porch and sipping at their drinks, it feels like the best idea in the world.

 

-

 

"Brother, you have a meeting."

 

"Huh... *sleepy mumble* Wait, what?! No, no no no- Tobirama, I swear that meeting was tomorrow!"

 

"It's today."

 

"SHIT-"

 

"Hashirama, if you don't shut up I will actually kill you right now."

 

"You're not the one who has to go to a meeting, Madara!"

 

"You're late."

 

"UGHHH- Go and tell them I'll be there soon, please?"

 

"I'm really not your messenger dog."

 

"I said please!"

 

"Will you shUT UP-"


End file.
